


Connor Walsh Does Not Apologize

by pastandfuturequeen



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 15:08:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2472659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastandfuturequeen/pseuds/pastandfuturequeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor Walsh doesn't do boyfriends. And he most certainly does not apologize.</p><p>(Three weeks after the end of S1:E4)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Connor Walsh Does Not Apologize

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work on this site, as well as my first slash and work for How to Get Away With Murder. I'm really looking forward to how this series is going to turn out, and I felt a physical pain when Connor cheated and Oliver kicked him out. I'm really hoping that they'll make up soon.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and please comment and tell me what you think!
> 
> (Edited as of 11.4.14)

Connor threw open the door to his apartment, slamming it behind him with a satisfying thud!. He didn’t even bother to turn on the lights as he tossed his jacket on the couch and his keys in their designated bowl. Huffing, the frustrated brunette stomped to his bedroom, flinging himself into the bed with a lack of finesse that, in usual circumstances, he would never allow himself to display.

The crisp sheets wrinkled beneath him, the fine mattress swallowing any annoying spring that may have emitted from a less worthy bedframe.

Connor pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, attempting in vain to turn off his mind.

The rest of the apartment sat quietly around him; modern, organized, immaculate and wrong, wrong, _wrong._

There were no decorative pots and trinkets from the Philippines atop overflowing bookcases. The couch didn’t bear the hand-sewn quilt that balanced the line between horrendously out of place and comforting in its sense of family and home. The walls and furniture in Connor’s apartment were all monochromatic, bound only to different shades of white, black, and grey. They didn’t explode with color, somehow managing to be both tasteful and eye-catching.

Connor looked at the clock next to the bed, frowning and turning his head away when he saw the hour. 2:37 AM.

Professor Keating had made her five protegees work until their eyes crossed, finally relenting when the clock neared midnight. Their latest case involved a client that Connor doubted they would even be able to defend - but after his last outburst he had wisely learned to keep his mouth shut.

Afterwards, Wes and Laurel had gone out for drinks, and Michaela had done her usual thing and refused in the name of studying for some test or other they would have on Monday. Asher had declined in his usual pompous way, scowling at the thought of the commoner’s liquor going anywhere near his mouth.

Feeling in need of a different kind of release, Connor had declined the offer of drinks and had gone briefly to his apartment to drop of his satchel and spritz on some cologne for the night.

It had taken Connor all of eight minutes to find his newest conquest. Kevin - or at least Connor thought his name was Kevin - had been so very pliant and shy when Connor approached him. He was a bookish sort of nerd, an obvious twink, and had only grown bolder after a few shots of tequila had passed his lips.

The two had snuck off to the alley beside the bar they had been in, and from there Connor had pushed Kevin against the wall and made him come in ten minutes flat. Frustrated and without his own satisfying release, Connor had zipped up his pants and arranged himself into some semblance of order, leaving Kevin in the alley to recover without so much as a backwards glance.

Connor had gone to his car and driven back to his apartment, working himself into a fit of frustration until he reached his current state.

_Apologize._

The thought came unbidden, a scandalous whisper in his mind. Connor immediately shook his head. Connor Walsh does not apologize.

Connor blamed his body, cursing it for its inefficiency. For the past three weeks, he had tried to go back into his usual one-night-stand routine, now that Oliver had broken up with - now that he no longer had a steady sex partner. For the past three weeks, he had tried, and he had failed.

It didn’t matter who his partner was; whether they were suave and confident or shy and reserved; whether they had blonde or brown hair; whether they wore a suit or street clothes; whether they were a top of bottom - Connor was left unsatisfied. 

He went through the motions perfectly, making sure his partner for off before he did, but there was still something missing. Connor would leave immediately, never staying over or inviting them to his place, or ever contacting them again. It was just as everything had been before.

But for some goddamned reason he just couldn’t get the same pleasure out of it as he had before. Strategically, the loss of Oliver wasn’t that great of a casualty. Connor had managed to teach himself the rudimentary elements of cyber hacking, as Oliver had attempted to show him before. While he was far from being able to attain all the information as the IT worker, Connor got enough to win cases. And while he no longer had a constant sexual partner, Connor had been without before. He had been fine before Oliver, and he would be fine now. Connor Walsh did not apologize.

But still the traitorous possibility lingered.

“Dammit,” Connor cursed, removing his palms from his eyes and staring up at the ceiling. A thin beam of moonlight streamed through the curtains, leaving the room just shy from pitch darkness. Mind swirling, Connor reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone.

His fingers led him to Oliver’s number on automatic, pausing only before they pressed the button to call. Connor glanced at the clock again, the blue numbers glaring at him reproachfully. _Even if I did call,_ his mind argued, _there is little chance that Oliver will answer. It’s very likely that Oliver is sleeping. Even if he isn’t, he may very well ignore me due to spite - or because he’s with someone else._ It was this last thought that tipped Connor over the edge of indecision, and he pressed the button.

Connor sat upright, his left hand tapping an erratic tune on his leg while he waited. Twenty-two seconds passed, and Connor felt his stomach coil with dread as he realized Oliver wasn’t going to answer. _Of course. What had I been thinking?_

Just as Connor’s thumb hovered over the button to end the call, the phone clicked and groggy “‘ello?’” rang from the other end. Connor’s voice caught in his throat, and dammit his pulse _did not_ speed up at the sound of that familiar voice.

“Hello?” Oliver repeated again, his voice becoming clearer as he woke. Connor cleared his throat, forcing the lump down and away so he could speak normally. Before he could open his mouth, Oliver answered with an irritated “What do you want, Connor?”

“I um-” Connor cleared his throat again. “Hello, Oliver. I was calling to see how you were.” Connor’s fingers ceased their tune, and he mentally praised himself for not stuttering.

“At almost three in the morning,” Oliver replied disbelievingly.

In hindsight, the excuse was not one of his finer creations.

“Oliver, I just need-”

“ _No._ ” Oliver snapped from the other line. Connor’s jaw clicked shut, and his hand closed into a fist. “Not this again. Connor, we’re done. I do not give a single _fuck_ what your boss needs - I am not just some toy that you can use and toss aside whenever you think it’s convenient for you.”

“Oliver - no, no it’s not that!” Connor hurried to explain, tongue tripping over itself in his haste. “That isn’t why I called - I called because I need you to know that the thing with that assistant was a one-time thing because I didn’t know that it would hurt you and - God I’d never want to hurt you because I actually like you, a lot, and I don’t usually do this apologizing thing and-" the rest of the words died in his throat, halted by some remaining sense of reason and self-preservation.

Connor blew a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair and closing his eyes. Silence rang from the other line, and Connor used this time to gather the tattered shreds of his composure. _Get your shit together, Walsh. You don’t go there - ever. You know how that always ends._

Oliver’s sigh tore Connor out of his thoughts.

The pause that had for a moment been comforting now left Connor with nothing but a growing sense of anxiety. Silence stretched between them. Connor held his breath. When Oliver spoke, Connor’s breath was caught between a laugh and a choked cry.

“I had understood that you had a problem with being a couple. I understood that you had your reasons for that, and I was willing to wait and see if someday you would trust me enough to tell me that reason.” Oliver spoke slowly, voice pitched low. “If you like someone, you don’t go and fuck other people. The very fact that you ‘didn’t know’ that you hurt me provides that this wasn’t ever going to work out. Delete my number, and please, don’t call again.”

Oliver hung up.

Connor stared down at his phone, his body numb.

He didn’t know how long he stared down at his phone, but it seemed to stretch on for an eternity. Oliver’s last words repeated themselves in his mind, swirling together until they were incomprehensible.

His fingers moved again of their own accord, and before he knew what was happening his thumb had pressed the button, and Oliver’s number was erased from his contacts. Connor sat up in a sort of haze, his mind almost impossibly silent.

Connor set his phone on the nightstand, beside the clock. He toed off his shoes carefully, setting them down in their proper place in the closet. He methodically stripped off his shirt and pants, putting them in the laundry bin. Connor turned once more towards the bed, slipping under the covers and ignoring the pounding of his heart and bitter disappointment settled in his gut.

When he lay to bed, Connor stared once more at his ceiling.

Connor Walsh does not do boyfriends. Boyfriends only led to unnecessary emotions and investment. Boyfriends led only to an unguarded heart in the face of the rest of the uncaring humanity.

With this thought settling into his mind, Connor shut away the words that had - for a moment - tried to slip from his tongue. The three blasphemous little words that would prove that he was getting more attacked than he should with what was supposed to be a simple sexual arrangement. Connor had learned long ago exactly what such things would lead to.

Connor Walsh does not apologize.


End file.
